


Astray

by keirajo



Series: The Prime and the Emperor [8]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Action/Adventure, Danger, Darkness, Depression, M/M, Multi, Romance, Slave Trafficking, Slavery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: Rodimus Prime is about to learn something he probably never wanted to know about the history of Cybertron, even as it ties in to enslaved Cybertronians out on the galactic fringes.
Relationships: Deszaras/Star Saber/Deadlock, Galvatron/Rodimus Prime, Rodimus Prime/Ultra Magnus
Series: The Prime and the Emperor [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1440979
Comments: 10
Kudos: 4





	1. History and It's Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the tags are for events in later chapters. The rating is also for later chapters.

**_ Astray _ **

_ Chapter One: History and It’s Secrets _

Rodimus Prime and his crew of the _Arrowshot_ were still on Chaar. The young Autobot Leader had requested a two-week “ _vacation_ ”, of sorts, for the crew. However, it was more-or-less so that he could get things done that didn’t have him hanging around Autobots or the Galactic Alliance. It was also a grave need for personal leave and **_not_** be surrounded by people who might still want his attention—the Decepticons could bother him, but they wouldn’t. And Rodimus Prime wanted a lot of attention from Galvatron, to be perfectly honest.

Who, after two days, had called him “ _excessively needy_ ”, kicked him out of the berth in the palace and said to **_not come back_** until he’d settled down a bit.

Which had upset Rodimus at the time, but he knew Galvatron was right. The Decepticon Leader never liked him when he was whiny and clingy and it was _exactly_ what he was doing right now. So, Rodimus Prime decided to wander around the districts on Chaar and see what he could do for the Decepticons, because he was very good at doing social work.

Stormbreaker, at the time, was busy spending time with Novablaze and everyone else that she never got to see as often anymore. The ship crew was enjoying time at the entertainment district, the embassy or with friends they may have had on Chaar. Caliburst and Smashdown were making new friends of everyone they could, while Firedrive was spending his time with Rodimus Prime, talking about big things—important things—and then very small things, such as learning more about the current situations on Cybertron, Chaar and the small planet Earth that the Autobots had formed an alliance with.

“I know we’ve all said it, but you don’t have to beat yourself up over what happened, Firedrive,” Rodimus said to his smaller companion as they sat at the counter in Krok’s bar in the Entertainment District.

“I know. However, it is something I personally feel I must make amends for,” the small grey-and-black mech sighed, sipping at the glass of blended Energon. “I was entrusted with lives and I made a mistake. On the third moon of Telos, I mistook Hala Jurel’s offer of assistance at its face-value.”

“It’s not wrong to trust others,” the flame-colored mech said, shaking his head, softly.

“Yes, but most of my companions felt _‘wrong’_ in trying to trust Jurel. I should have trusted in them and not have been so desperate. But Haywire was my…….. _mmm_. I was emotionally set in the situation and I went with my own emotions and didn’t trust the thoughts of my crew,” Firedrive murmured, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “ _It was a mistake_. Jurel often used Haywire’s presence against me, because of our bond with one another.”

“Were you Spark-bonded?” Rodimus asked, not really wishing to pry, but……….

“We Battle Masters were cautioned against Spark-bonding because of our smaller Sparks and our primary coding. So, we cannot Spark-bond as other Cybertronians do,” Firedrive responded. “We are able to do much more with a data-interfacing than you are though—and for **_us_** , that is the way we will bond.”

Rodimus Prime rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It was an interesting concept. To use the data-‘facing as the version of a Spark-bond………..he could see its merits, as well as its drawbacks. Data-interfacing began as a medical maintenance function. A healthy system _could_ boost a weaker one. Others used it in a more personal format later on through the evolution of their species.

“One thing we do in a data-interface that your type cannot is a specific exchange of information that develops our battle skills and makes us what we are, to become better,” Firedrive chuckled. “It’s _very personal_ , this exchange of information—and it binds us very much in the way a Spark-bond will bind your type.”

“But not the Spark-shattering end that a broken bond gives _us_ , right?” Rodimus asked, glancing down at the Battle Master.

“ _True_. And our partners live on in us forever—in our data, not just our memories,” the grey-and-black mech chuckled, downing the remainder of his glass of Energon blend. “Everything of Haywire I still have with me and will have forever, even if his frame and voice are gone in my life.”

“It sounds both weird and enviable,” the flame-colored mech said with a smile, finishing his glass and paying Krok. Then the two of them left the bar and began walking around the Entertainment District. “Because you are all weapons of some sort in your alt mode, does the exchange of data increase your firepower or your particular weapon skills?” He asked, curiously.

“It does. Most of us have a specific design of weapon, but by exchanging data we can convert to another weapon-type, if compatible. Haywire and I both transformed into rifles, therefore our data was very compatible,” Firedrive explained, waving his servos as he walked and talked alongside the young Autobot Leader. “Now Smashdown and someone like Sights on Recoil’s ship—they would not be compatible in their data. Smashdown is a physical weapon type, whereas Sights is an accessory type. They might still be able to have a relationship of some sort via data-interfacing, however, they cannot exchange data that would _improve_ the both of them.”

“What would their exchange of data do to them?” Rodimus asked, curiously, as they stopped by Swindle’s Imports and Goods storefront in the Entertainment District. (He’d moved it there once the district was functioning smoothly.)

“It can be difficult to tell. Most likely they’d just leave imprints of one another in their systems,” Firedrive answered with a shrug, entering the shop as soon as the flame-colored mech opened the door. “ _Oh, my_ —this is an **_impressive_** place!” He gasped, looking around at all the foreign-not-Decepticon-native items all over the show floor in front of them.

“ _Thank you! Thank you!_ ” Swindle gushed, hopping up from his seat behind the counter and stepping quickly towards them. “ ** _Always_** a pleasure to see you, Prime! Looking for anything special today?” He asked, grinning up at the young Autobot Leader.

“I was showing Firedrive around. I do want to thank you for acquiring the new weighted blanket for Galvatron. Honestly, what _did_ he do to the last one?” Rodimus laughed, placing his servos on his hips.

“ _Seriously Prime?_ You sure you want to know that?” Swindle chortled.

“ ** _Ugh_**. You’re right, I _don’t_ wanna know,” Rodimus groaned, tossing back his head and facepalming himself.

“Swindle, correct? I’m very curious— _how_ do you acquire your product? I recognize these from Telos,” the small grey-and-black mech said, walking over to a display of hanging crystalline structures. “They’re _harmonizing spheres_.”

“ _Ah-ha-ha!_ Trade secrets, little guy! But mostly I collect junk and exchange it at the bazaar on Alfor-Two,” Swindle chuckled, walking over to the area where Firedrive was looking at the hanging crystal spheres.

“ _Ah, yes_. Alfor-Two, I’ve been there—it’s a _huge_ place. You must have set up some good supply chains on that world, they are incredibly……. ** _ahem_** , _precise_ on their negotiating,” Firedrive chuckled. He reached up and brushed a sphere as large as his own smaller servo.

“Why Swindle………..surely you don’t let them fleece you on this bazaar planet, do you?” Rodimus Prime chortled, walking over.

“ ** _Ngggh_**. _Once_ ……….it **_only happened once_** and I learned my lesson, Prime!” Swindle said, indignantly, folding his arms over his chest.

“How much is this harmonizing crystal?” Firedrive asked, looking up at the Combaticon with a smile on his faceplate.

“For you, as a friend of the Prime— _you_ get a slight discount. Thirty shanix, fees included,” Swindle chuckled, grinning down at the Battle Master fondly.

“You like it, Firedrive?” Rodimus asked, curiously looking at the crystal as Swindle removed it from the display and took it over to the counter to wrap it up securely and ring up the purchase.

“Haywire had one. It’ll remind me of fonder times I spent with him,” Firedrive responded, removing his IG bank card from a subspace pocket in his forearm and handed it to Swindle. “They are charms, of a sort. These crystals have microperforations in them—depending on the atmosphere you’re in, they can sometimes change colors over time. On Telos, the microperforations supposedly would capture your negativity and seal it away in the infinite structure of the crystal—making you feel better.”

“ _Ah_. On Earth, one of their cultures has something similar. It’s called a _‘dreamcatcher’_ ,” Rodimus Prime responded, nodding down at Firedrive. “Next let’s go over to the gymnasium. It’s a martial arts place, where you can work out and practice with others.”

“It sounds good,” Firedrive responded, smiling up at Rodimus Prime. “It sounds like something to truly suit the Decepticons’ core programming—so long as they do so for sport and not _‘to the death’_.”

“Though Dai Atlas _isn’t a Decepticon_ and has not claimed a brand, he’s a sought-after teacher there at the gym,” Rodimus said, grinning down at his Battle Master friend. “His sword skills are impressive, even wowing Star Saber—who’s quite good with a blade. _That’s even in his designation!_ ”

Rodimus explained about the adult sparkling from Jyuuishi—who actually seemed to fit in well amongst the Decepticons of Chaar and chose to stay on the planet after researching both it and Cybertron and even the Earth’s base of Autobots. It may have been that Dai Atlas had the coding of his sire, who was of the military hardware line—which would fit in well with the Decepticons’ base coding, even though that had mutated over the millennia a bit. Firedrive had also wondered if other military hardware and consumer goods products of the Quintessons may have discovered the ability to conceive sparklings—however, the process was very specific in many ways, it would not be easy to simply stumble upon such a solution. Especially as Dai Atlas had said that the firstborn before him did not develop properly—then the lastborn, because the sire had died, did not develop properly either. Only the “ _middle children_ ” had been developed properly, as their parents had learned what was needed to make a sparkling come to full development.

The two friends entered the gymnasium and Firebolt was very impressed by the size of it. There was a very high ceiling, it looked as if the dome could be opened, when needed. Rodimus explained that it was so the Decepticons, who often relied on flight in combat, even in their primary modes, could spar to the best of their abilities. So, a minimal flight space in the gymnasium was also offered. This became an important place, where Decepticons could test their skills and abilities against each other in a more “ _playful_ ” manner than outright combat.

Right now, in the main part of the facility, Dai Atlas was sparring with blades— _against Deadlock_. Deadlock had a tendency to wield two shorter swords, which didn’t surprise Rodimus Prime, he knew the mech was a weaponswielder who preferred his weapons to “ _come in twos_ ”—though the weaponsmech preferred guns over blades. So, Deadlock’s swordwork tended to be a bit more “ _hack-and-slash_ ” than anything elegant like Dai Atlas’ swordwork, with his single greatsword.

There was also a small audience off to the sides. Small groups of Decepticons were watching the sparring, making commentary to one another and such. Rodimus walked over to where Star Saber was with Vortex and Snaptrap.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” The flame-colored mech greeted. “This is Firedrive,” he introduced with a smile, waving down at his Battle Master companion.

“ _Hey_ ,” Star Saber said with a chuckle and a polite nod down at the shorter grey-and-black mech. “Deadlock’s rather determined to beat Dai Atlas today. He’s very stubborn. Even though he’s not as good with blades as guns, he likes to think he’s the _absolute expert_ with every kind of weapon.”

“I’ve never seen anything like Dai Atlas,” Snaptrap chuckled fondly. “He is a mech who doesn’t compromise beautiful swings with brutality, when it comes to his blade. No matter how fierce the attacks may be, they are always rather elegant.”

“I’m probably more like Deadlock, I do rely on the _‘hack-and-slash’_ method with my blades,” Vortex chortled softly, folding his arms over his chest and watched the sparring intensely. “But then, I used to be a melee fighter with my servos before this frame rebuild from……well, _you-know-who_.”

They all watched Dai Atlas and Deadlock spar heatedly in their sword match. Star Saber would issue some commentary on what he liked of the Jyuuishin mech’s sword style and what Deadlock was trying to do with his odd pattern of swings. Snaptrap, who often used a blade in primary mode style of combat, would point out swings and stances that he felt was useful in combat and what would fare better in an art display of swordwork. Vortex would sometimes point out a lunge that he liked and how it could affect an opponent in combat—having been a fist-fighter once, he knew how very close range strikes could throw an opponent off-balance, even if they were expecting it.

Rodimus could hear commentary like this going on along the small groups of the Decepticons who were gathered around the sides, watching the sparring match. He knew how well-liked Dai Atlas had become, amongst the Decepticons—the Jyuuishin mech had **_something_** , a kind of grace, that the Decepticons didn’t have. And he could probably kick your aft while laughing over it, which was something the Decepticons could admire and respect. The young Autobot Leader also knew that Dai Atlas also had been a popular mech to take to your berth amongst the Decepticons—he’d heard the talks about the large mech’s skills and energy.

Which had to be impressive, given that the Jyuuishi-born sparkling had to have been a very old “ _virgin_ ” when he came to Chaar basically. He _might’ve_ had a sexual education from his sire or carrier, but he certainly had no one to interface with on Jyuuishi. He probably had curiosity and was bold enough to learn how to interface from Decepticons—who might be a bit rougher and more physical than, say, an Autobot might be.

Interestingly enough, there were a number of fans of Deadlock there, making commentary on his heated battling. The Decepticons could appreciate a good soldier like the grey-and-white mech. He was a weapons expert, from servos to guns. Most Decepticons had a particularly favored weapon and were not as adaptable with other weapon types. And Deadlock had been around a very long time, older Decepticons loitering in the gymnasium may well have known him long before the war had been taken to the fringes, the “ _frontier_ ” as everyone called it.

Then, Deadlock brought his two blades down in a sweeping arc, heavily. Dai Atlas caught them neatly with his greatsword and made a motion more like trying to flip something over than an actual parry. The grey-and-white Decepticon was unprepared for the motion and his twin blades crashed to the floor of the gymnasium.

“I apologize, Deadlock, but it appears it’s **_my_** victory again,” the dark-blue colored adult sparkling chuckled warmly, sheathing his greatsword on his back and then bowed deeply in respect to the Decepticon weaponsmaster. “Why don’t we go over to Krok’s and I’ll buy you something to drink as a peace offering?” He asked, watching the grey-and-white Decepticon pick up his swords with a sigh and place them into sheaths on his hips.

“On many days I would accept that right away, but I have something else to take care of now that I’m done here,” he said with a grin and a slight nod in Star Saber’s direction. “Maybe I’ll beat you _next time_ —I’ll have Saber work with me more on the sword stuff.”

“It would be an honor and a pleasure,” the unaligned mech chuckled. Then he turned to the audience and asked if anyone else was up for a challenge today.

Deadlock walked over to where his lover was standing with Rodimus Prime and some other Decepticons, plus one of those smaller mechs, a Battle Master. “Think you can spare some time back at the hab block, Saber?” The mech asked, not embarrassed or ashamed to allude to “ _let’s go somewhere and frag, now_ ” in the company of a large group.

“I might be able to make some time for you, Deadlock,” Star Saber chuckled, fondly, his smile covered by his facial shield as he gazed down at the Decepticon, his blue optics glowing brightly with interest. With that, the two of the _Thunder Arrow_ crew dismissed themselves from the mixed company and left the gymnasium.

Almost as soon as they left, a familiar and powerful EM field washed over the area and the double doors swung open to allow Galvatron to stride into the gymnasium. Everyone completely stopped what they were doing—the whole place went still and quiet, except for Rodimus. The flame-colored mech chuckled and waved at his powerful lover, breaking the tension that suddenly hit the place. Then everyone settled down to normal, but not a single one went back to what they were doing—in case Galvatron were here for any of them.

“I admit, I had not had the opportunity to come to this place yet. So, it is a battle facility?” Galvatron said, glancing back at Cyclonus, who was right there in his peripheral vision.

“As simply as that may be stated, yes, my lord,” Cyclonus answered immediately.

“Yet _no one_ is battling? Why are you all not battling?” Galvatron pouted with a frown on his faceplate.

“ _Because you freak them out with your EM field a mile before you approach!_ ” Rodimus called, warm laughter in the tone of his voice. “ _Seriously, my Emperor! Tone it down!_ ”

“I believe I have a **_volunteer_** to battle with, myself,” Galvatron chuckled, stepping towards the center of the gymnasium.

“ _Well_. Only if you tone it down all the way, my lord,” Rodimus Prime laughed, stepping forwards to meet him. “This is a place for _‘playful combat’_ —not for the usual sparring that you and I must do far, **_far_** away from the habitated areas.”

“So then, the rules are _‘servos and pedes, only’_?” The powerful grey-and-purple mech said, placing his servos on his hips.

“Maybe a headbutt or two if you’re feeling so inclined, but **_yes_** ……. _servos and pedes, only_ ,” the flame-colored mech chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. Then Rodimus Prime shifted his pedes and moved his frame into a ready-and-waiting stance, grinning at Galvatron.

Galvatron grinned and showed his fangs, standing at ease and with a very ready posture. He waited to see what his flame-colored lover would open the fight with and stepped to the side easily when that motion was a lunge. Rodimus knew his servo wasn’t going to connect and shifted quickly to make a leg sweep, even as he hopped sideways with his other pede, to avoid a heavy and disarming swing of Galvatron’s cannon-arm. The young Autobot Leader laughed as he moved about, dodging swings and making some lunges, _but Galvatron avoided every single move_.

Then, suddenly, Rodimus Prime realized **_exactly_** what was going on. Galvatron was using **_his_** moves—the battle motions that the flame-colored mech often used in their sparring over the years, the Decepticon Leader was using all of those to his own, personal and tactical advantage. _He couldn’t believe it_ —he knew Galvatron had learned all of his techniques over the years, forcing him to try and keep things fresh with new moves or techniques…………he never realized Galvatron could use _all of his techniques_!

Granted, the purple-and-grey mech’s bulkier frame did not move as fast with some kicks or lunges, as Rodimus Prime’s own frame would move—but _those moves_ were the young Autobot’s battle moves! The flame-colored mech chuckled to himself and realized Ultra Magnus was going to have train a little harder with him now, to teach him new things. _Galvatron was a total warmachine_. **_He learned and he used what he learned!_**

Well, _this_ would be a bit underhanded, **_but_** ………

“Sorry to end this, my Emperor, but if we go on too long……….I’m gonna need a good frag afterwards,” Rodimus chuckled, headbutting his older lover and then grabbed the center tine of Galvatron’s tri-point crowned helm. He shifted and planted his other servo on one of his lover’s shoulder pillars, then threw Galvatron to the ground and planted a pede in the center of the powerful mech’s lower back.

Galvatron roared with laughter and then allowed his rival and lover to offer a servo up. He leaned forwards and grabbed Rodimus Prime’s chin, kissing him deeply and wetly for a moment.

“It is _always_ a pleasure to spar with you, my Prime—even when it is as **_tame_** as this,” Galvatron chuckled, fondly. “I still need you to wait a few days before you may return to my berth. This time it is because I am about to take a tour out through the system, so I will be gone for a couple of days.”

Ripples of anticipation went through every Decepticon’s field in the gymnasium as soon as Galvatron said he was going out on patrol—it often meant there would be some kind of action involved, since the Trylians often chose to keep trying to challenge the borders of this planetary system.

“I hope that you don’t encounter too much trouble, then, my lord,” Rodimus Prime chuckled, fondly.

“ ** _Decepticons! I want a dozen volunteers!_** ” Galvatron roared, turning to the crowds around them in the gymnasium.

Everyone in the gymnasium roared for their Emperor, wanting to be the ones chosen for the patrol. Galvatron left it to Cyclonus to choose twelve of the volunteers and he went to wait outside. Rodimus Prime smiled as he watched the poor, overworked Decepticons’ Second-in-Command try to maintain order in a mob and choose twelve individuals to go out on patrol with Galvatron. Cyclonus was as cool and calm as ever, though, even as he pushed and shoved his way through the mob of soldiers and chose twelve of them to go out on the patrol.

* * * * *

“Cerebros, I’m actually receiving some wavelengths of Cybertronian bio-signatures from that ship docked at that orbital station,” a vivid-yellow mech said, walking from his scanning station at the back of the bridge area (from Fortress Maximus’ travelling form). “They’re a little bit different than _ours_ , but it might be something like the Mini-Cons or those Battle Master fellows that Rodimus Prime found?”

“Let me take a look at the data. I am a little familiar with the Mini-Cons’ bio-signatures,” the grey-and-black mech responded, taking the datapad from the brightly-colored mech. “Try doing a few more scans of all the other signatures aboard the ship for me, Electro—I’d like to get a broad view of what we may be dealing with here.”

“You have an idea?” A black-and-white mech with some red and yellow highlighting colors asked, folding his arms on the back and leaning over Cerebros’ captain’s chair.

“ _Mmmm_. It is not an idea I want to entertain, either, Sonicbomber—but my old group had encountered things like _‘galactic freakshows’_ ,” Cerebros responded, scanning the data on the datapad. “There are some species in the universe who think it amusing and entertaining to trap members of foreign alien species and show them off akin to a carnival or circus.”

“My unit and I came across things like that,” Slugslinger said from the front of the bridge, turning his chair around—it was a piloting station, but since Fortress Maximus himself did the driving, they just watched for “ _bumps in the road_ ” as the case may be. “Triggerhappy can tell you more—they actually tried to capture him once,” the blue-and-grey mech added, nodding over to his co-pilot.

The other Decepticon made a frustrated little sound and turned his chair around, too. “ _Yeah_. The fleshlings had some sort of devices that could disrupt our systems. I was out cold in a cage for three days with Primus knows who gawking at me, before I woke up and just laid waste to the whole place,” the darker-blue colored mech responded.

Cerebros gave a wry little chuckle, but that was the _Decepticon Way_ —especially back then. He couldn’t fault them for the past, because the Decepticons were doing better now and Rodimus Prime had worked on finding ways to fulfill those programs and protocols within them so they wouldn’t just “ _lay waste to all around them_ ” anymore, like they used to. Some Decepticons bemoaned the “ _not able to just vent at any time anymore_ ” part of being a warrior culture, but they had come to understand that by taming their warrior instincts made them much better as a culture and a species. So, they all worked at making Rodimus Prime’s plans work—and it made the Decepticon Empire better.

It made them start to look a bit more respectable in the eyes of the universe-at-large, especially to the Galactic Alliance. Rodimus Prime said that once the Decepticons could become members of the Galactic Alliance—Galvatron could allow them to take work suited to them on Galactic Alliance worlds. That meant guard duties and other active security things. That meant maybe even sports combat on other worlds—which the prospect intrigued them, as they saw other species in the universe that might possibly challenge them in combat. _The Decepticons could become famous, as well as wealthy—and could use their skills to the best of their programming!_

“I have **_never_** understood why galactic freakshows appeal to people,” Sonicbomber sighed, shaking his head.

“Nor I. But it has been made clear that races, including our own, may not have treated other species respectfully,” Cerebros replied, shaking his head softly. “The bio-signatures are similar to Mini-Cons, so I suspect that they may well be Battle Masters. This poses an interesting question though—are they from the other two ships Firedrive said were launched out, or did Hala Jurel sell some of his slaves off to increase his finances for his research?”

“Didn’t this Firedrive guy say that Jurel killed his crew, though—over time, with that _Corodine_ stuff?” Triggerhappy asked, tilting his head as he looked across the room at Cerebros.

“True. However, Firedrive also stated he could never account for his full crew roster at some point—this leaves open the fact that Jurel may have sold off some of his slaves and merely told Firedrive they were gone, assumed dead,” the intelligent black-and-grey mech responded. Cerebros had been analyzing the _Corodine_ traces taken out of Firedrive’s systems—as well as ever single scientist in the Autobot and Decepticon ranks had been doing since the rescue of Firedrive and what remained of his crew.

This was a dangerous substance Starscream created. It was a drug and an inhibitor—for most of the species in the universe. The base elements of _Corodine_ were what made it “ _Corodine_ ”, but depending on the species, other herbs and elements could be added for greater effect to that species. This was not just a drug for recreation or for manipulation—it was a drug that could maim and kill with great intent to do so. And once the rare anti-Cybertronian races out there figured out what the activator element was for Cybertronians—to tame or to kill—they could do damage to Cybertronians limitlessly and intentionally.

Corodine could be used for mass genocide of any species in the universe. It could be sold to any wannabe dictator in the universe to destroy an entire species. Starscream had finally allowed the potential for mass species extinction to happen—for the right price.

Cerebros sent a ping to Rodimus Prime—knowing it could take a little while for response—asking for a conference call to be made as soon as he could find a few moments to spare. In the meantime, Electro continued to scan the ship at the docking station from their long range out, to see how many different species might be on it and if it could indeed be a “ _galactic freakshow_ ” vessel, as they were suspecting. Their suspicions were looking to have more foundations as bio-signatures of about seventy different galactic species were found aboard that ship docked at the orbital station around the planet L’grr.

Just as Electro and Cerebros were concluding the findings, Rodimus opened a communications channel from Chaar.

“Hey Cerebros—Cyclonus gave me permission to use the communications console in the palace since a lot of the staff are out with Galvatron chasing Trylians,” the flame-colored mech said with a smile on the holographic viewscreen that appeared in the center of the bridge area.

“I see young Novablaze is with you—as much as I understand he is becoming involved in operations on Chaar, I do not think my news is something you want him to hear and have to explain to him,” Cerebros answered with a soft sigh. “My apologies, Nova, but **_this_** is something not yet for your audials, I think,” the grey-and-black mech added as he nodded politely to the mechling’s image on the screen.

“Okay, Cerebros. I hope it’s not really bad,” Novablaze said, a little bit of worry in his voice as his image turned and walked away, with one last wave towards the viewing screen.

On the screen, Rodimus Prime’s head and optics followed his eldest offspring’s frame out of the room and then focused on the viewscreen with determination. “Go ahead, Cerebros—give it to me. I’m sure **_I_** won’t like it, either,” the young Autobot Leader sighed.

“We are near a cluster of planets out here on the fringes—many are not members of the Galactic Alliance, so we are treading dangerous waters, so to speak,” the grey-and-black mech began. “There’s a planet called L’grr—the species is primarily aquatic, their world is ninety-five percent water. However, they have an orbital station above their planet where they conduct negotiations with other planets and other species. Currently we are monitoring a ship docked at the orbital station and there are Cybertronian bio-signatures aboard the vessel. As well as about seventy other species.”

“A galactic circus,” Rodimus Prime said with a frown. Which was a kinder word than the “ _freakshow_ ” that Cerebros and his crew had been tossing about.

“It looks likely. That convergence of that many species is rarely anything but such a thing. Unless it’s a cooperative Galactic Alliance vessel—and there are no markings to say that it is one of _those_ ,” Cerebros said, very seriously. “The bio-signatures are similar to Mini-Cons, the Cybertronian ones, so I suspect they may be Battle Masters like your friend, Firedrive.”

Cerebros could see in Rodimus Prime’s faceplate and optics the same line of thinking he had—were they from the other ships or from Firedrive’s own crew?

“Galactic circuses are **_not_** allowed in Galactic Alliance sectors, but you’re on the fringes. Therefore they also won’t have the protections afforded to members of Galactic Alliance worlds,” Rodimus said, his voice very low. “Be careful out there, though. No rules and no laws mean more desperation and danger.”

With that, Rodimus Prime immediately signed off.

“I **_knew_** I liked that Autobot for a reason,” Triggerhappy chuckled, turning back to his piloting station with a grin.

“Did he just ask us to go and instigate something to get those Cybertronians back?” Sonicbomber said with a gasp.

“Of course he didn’t,” Cerebros said, his grin hidden beneath his facial shield. “Rodimus Prime would _never_ even make such a suggestion. Ever.”

“He’s a sneaky one, that mech,” Electro chuckled, going back to his scanning station.

* * * * *

As soon as Rodimus had signed off with Cerebros, he turned to leave the palace’s communications room and look for Novablaze—who had actually been giving _HIM_ a tour, as if his carrier were a new visitor to Chaar. In the doorway, waiting for him, was Deadlock. He was clean, polished………but his EM field showed he was unhappy, despite the fact he _probably_ enjoyed whatever time he’d just spent with Star Saber.

“There are Cybertronians in a galactic freakshow?” Deadlock asked, his voice very low and very unhappy in its tone.

“I’d like to think not, but I think there are,” the flame-colored mech answered.

“I came to look for you, because I wanted to tell you something. Now I think I need to tell you _everything_ ,” the grey-and-white Decepticon responded. “Somewhere we can talk privately?” He asked.

Rodimus Prime motioned for him to come into the room and then turned back to the panel to close and lock the door to the communications room.

“I’m older than most mechs or femmes think I am. I’ve had a complete frame rebuild since my original frame,” Deadlock said, sitting down in one of the chairs near the console. “I don’t necessarily know what was going on with Cybertron when I was came out of the forge, but it was near the downfall of the old senate and before Megatron was born. Tell me, in all of your historical readings, did you ever come across a section about the _Export Edict_?” The Decepticon asked, his red optics glowing fiercely as he looked at the flame-colored mech, who had merely leaned up against the console.

“I’ve seen it referred to in a few documents. But nothing detailing what it actually was—it’s my assumption it’s from when we used to deal with other planets and we traded resources,” Rodimus replied, shaking his head softly.

“Well, that’s an overly simplified explanation, but you’re not going to like the answer of what it really was,” Deadlock chuckled, his voice grim and the tone still showing unhappiness. “ _It was slave trafficking_.”

Rodimus gasped and pushed back from the console, realizing that maybe he needed to sit down for this explanation…………….


	2. The Export Edict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back during the Golden Age of Cybertron, the government passes a bill that--at it's very core--is advocating legalized slavery. Even as they sought to destroy all evidence of the struggle against the Quintessons and their origins as slaves, they are turning down the path that their masters once went down. And a young mech from the forging that this bill was aimed at, he is sent to a world and is later torn from it by a horrible twist of fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, seriously, could've been REALLY LONG. I edited this down massively. I could've spent more time with the Golden Age senate government, I could've spent a TON more time with Drift's background, including his years on Laira with the anthropomorphic Jackrabbits that have an Asian-influenced culture. This could've been a huge chapter, but I didn't want to bog it down with all of that...…..I wanted to get to the heart of what the chapter was about for the purposes of this story.
> 
> Maybe one day I'll do a side-bit of stories about all the other Cybertronians that surround Galvatron, Rodimus and the others. :)

_ Chapter Two: The Export Edict _

**_About 10 million years ago, on Cybertron_ **

Every single time that Senator Alpha passed the grand statue in front of the Central Administration Building, he had to stop himself from wanting to raze it to the ground. Arrowshot, _personally_ , would’ve condemned the ones who had the statue built. Arrowshot was a simple mech, who did what he could to free Cybertronians from the tyranny of the Quintesson oppression—a soldier who wanted to protect and free his fellow slaves. This grand statue, covered in gold cybertonium plating, had an exaggerated design of Arrowshot’s simple military hardware frame—with the additions of a cape and something that Alpha Trion figured must be a representation of the Key. The heritage object that had come to be known as the Matrix of Leadership. This elaborate redesign of Arrowshot was standing in a triumphant pose, one pede on top of a Dark Guardian’s (Omega Sentinel) head and raising the Matrix to the sky. The Matrix, itself, seemed to be fairly close to what it looked like, without the handle grips and probably closer to the representation of a Spark and the spark-casing.

Even despite the grandeur, Alpha Trion—once known as “ _A-3_ ” of the consumer goods line and now known by his senate title of “ _Senator Alpha_ ”—could appreciate an homage to his mentor and commander of the rebellion. The mech who handed the rebellion and the Key to him, when he suffered a fatal wound in combat against the Omega Sentinels. History would probably forget Arrowshot one day, because Senator Prime was already reviewing some bills that would destroy all historical documents that referred to Quintessons in any way. _The Quintessons—and everything the current senate hated about the Cybertronians’ slave history—would soon be destroyed and one day, likely, to be completely forgotten._

Arrowshot would condemn them all, if he could—for the ridiculous statue and for burying history. Forgetting the past would ensure that it would repeat itself in very horrible ways. Alpha Trion hoped that when that happened, it would be long past his time—however, the new bill that the Lower Senate passed up to the Higher Senate was likely a sign that it might happen sooner than later.

As Senator Alpha passed the chamber of the Lower Senate, he heard a lot of arguing inside. More bills, most likely. Election cycles were not far away and those who supported Senator Prime needed his favor to ensure they kept their offices in the Lower Senate. After all, the current Senator Prime—known only by his senate name of “ _Sigma_ ”—had recently fallen into disfavor amongst the public that had elected him. There would need to be public-favoring bills passed to raise the interest in the current Senator Prime, so that he could keep his position another one-hundred years—and then those who supported him in the Lower Senate could keep their positions.

The three Higher Senate positions, of which Alpha Trion belonged to, were lifetime appointments and would be filled by public elections only if one of them died. They had the role of keeping power balance between Senator Prime and the Lower Senate—while Senator Prime was elected by the public, the Lower Senate members were appointed by Senator Prime and confirmed or denied by the Higher Senate. Two members of the Higher Senate had been in their positions for a million years already, when the government had been formed after freedom had been won and the Quintessons had been driven from Cybertron. A-3 and Beta from the original rebellion filled two of the positions, taking the senate names of “ _Alpha_ ” and “ _Beta_ ” rather predictably. The third member of the Higher Senate was fairly new, in comparison………he had only been in his position about eight-hundred years. His birth name was Koron, but his senate name was “ _Gamma_ ”, he had a background which made him more akin to the military hardware line, however he was from one of the first few forgings from Vector Sigma, once freedom had been won.

“You’re late, Ei,” Beta remarked, as soon as the purple-and-magenta mech entered the Higher Senate’s chamber.

“I stopped by Central Records to get some datapads,” Alpha Trion said, sitting down at his section of the triangular table and neatly piled a stack of datapads to the right of him on the table.

“More pleasure reading?” Koron remarked, glancing up from his computer screen for a very brief moment to acknowledging his fellow senator’s presence.

“Not so much, this time,” the former rebellion commander sighed. “It seems that even before the Inferno Bill has passed, Central Records has already begun destroying historical documents.”

“Are you surprised?” The green-and-grey femme responded, leaning on her arms, on the table. “Ei, it really **_is_** better if our kind forgets about the Quintessons. Let’s just focus on keeping the peace and allowing this Golden Age to flourish.”

“Let’s **_focus_** on the Export Bill. The Lower Senate keeps adding things to it. I’ve warned them, they have two weeks to get it finished and up here or else we’ll veto it on arrival,” the dark blue-and-black mech sighed. Koron looked up and over at Alpha Trion. “We can’t let them get it up here with half the things they want to have on it, so here’s what I could glean that they’ve attached to the bill so far.”

Senator Gamma pressed enter on his keyboard and sent information to Alpha’s and Beta’s computer screens. The two former rebellion commanders started scanning the bill and its additions. All of the sudden, Alpha Trion rose to his pedes and slammed his servos to the table.

“ _What is **this**?! What is this fourth provision on the bill? This is supposed to be about **export services** we can provide to the Galactic Alliance!_” The purple-and-magenta mech snapped, angrily—his EM field swirled with fury.

“Kor, I could be mistaken, but that wording implies that we are going to sell off newmechs and newfemmes,” Beta said, her field much calmer than Alpha’s, but she was annoyed all the same.

“Yes, it’s a tough point of the bill. Apparently, the massive forgings that have happened in the past two-thousand years have placed frustration on the public,” Gamma responded, keeping his own field neutral. “As you know, we’re entering an election cycle soon and public opinion says we need to spread out the populace further—they’re worried about _overpopulation_. I think they want to word this provision to basically state an offer of adoption or job positions off-world, to ease the stresses on the public. Vector Sigma is close to another mass forging and it’s got a lot of people angry and scared.”

“ _Primus would not keep forging newmechs and newfemmes if he could not supply them with fuel and life!_ ” Alpha Trion snapped, glaring at Koron.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Trion,” Senator Gamma responded, dryly, looking directly into the older mech’s optics as he held up his servos peaceably. “I don’t necessarily agree with it, either, but I don’t think it’s a bad idea to send some of our population to other worlds. I think to foster a better relationship with other worlds, they need to learn about us.”

Beta relaxed and leaned back into her chair, folding her arms across her chest. The green-and-grey femme hummed thoughtfully. “ _Yes_. I can agree with **_that_**. Ei, sit down and calm your field,” she said, admonishing her fellow former rebellion commander. “I think, trying to get the Galactic Alliance worlds to understand us, would go far to benefitting us in eventually joining them. I also think it would be beneficial for us to learn about the life and lifeforms of other worlds. Fostering our kind on other worlds would be of great benefit,” she said, looking over at Senator Gamma and smiling warmly.

“Are you listening to yourselves? _Are you listening to each other? **This is just a new type of slavery**!_” Senator Alpha snapped, dropping back down into his chair and trying to bring the anger in his field under control. “We can’t control what happens to our kind on other worlds, action against other worlds would damage our reputation with them if……..”

“ ** _If_**. That’s the word here……. _‘if’_ ,” Beta said, leaning back forwards and resting her arms on the edge of the table in front of her, twining the digits of her servos lightly. “We **_vet_** those who adopt the newmechs and newfemmes. _We vet them thoroughly_. We will not send the youth of our species into the care of those who would enslave and abuse them—we would make sure that those adopting our newmechs and newfemmes are species and beings who would care for them and educate them on the ways of their new worlds. And in that way, those new species would learn more about us, what makes us unique from mere automatons.”

“It would help Cybertron’s PR department if we weren’t portrayed as _‘big, scary robots’_ ,” Koron added with a light chuckle, looking over at Alpha Trion. “Many of the species in the universe are much smaller than us, it makes sense that we frighten them.”

Alpha Trion leaned back into his chair, unhappy at the whole situation.

“At least wait until the bill _legitimately_ gets to us before automatically killing it on arrival,” Beta said, glaring over at her old friend and former lover.

* * * * *

_Just about a month later_ ………..

“ ** _Senator Alpha! Senator Alpha! A word!_** ” The reporters howled, as soon as the magenta-and-purple mech descended the stairs of the Central Administration Building.

“ _We fought hard for our freedom! For the freedom of all that come after us! I am ashamed that the Export Bill passed as recorded!_ ” Alpha Trion snapped, pointing a digit right at the nearest camera and then he stalked away.

Even though word had just been announced to the media of the passing of the Export Bill with several provisions that the Higher Senate were not very pleased with—they could not unify to veto it entirely and sent it on to Senator Prime for final approval or veto—it had been officially passed a week ago. Today was Forge Day and the Senator Prime would be at the current exit of the forge, with the Job Action Committee, to cull the newmechs and newfemmes and see whom they would send offworld for the first time ever.

_Legal slavery_. Even though Beta and Koron felt it would be good for their species to interact and “ _buyers_ ” would be vetted thoroughly before they could adopt a Cybertronian, you could never predict what would happen to the Cybertronians once they were off of their own homeworld. This was a grand disaster in the making and it would take years before they’d all realize how bad it could be. Senator Prime had decided half of the newly-forged would be adopted out to Galactic Alliance worlds.

The media began to call it the “ _Export Edict_ ”, to make more drama of the situation. However, public opinion swelled with positivity—since for them it meant their jobs were safe, their homes were safe and there wouldn’t be the feared overpopulation that the new mass forging could have caused otherwise.

Alpha Trion thought the public was stupid and he felt stupider for believing in them to do the right things for the interest of a growing society.

It was entirely possible that some of the Cybertronians sent offworld, adopted by alien societies, might be treated wonderfully and grow better because of that. But you just knew that there would be someone out there who would adopt a Cybertronian and use them in unsavory deeds or turn around and abuse them terribly! It _would_ happen, it couldn’t **_NOT_** happen!

“What is your designation, young one?” Senator Prime asked, stopping in front of an average-sized white-and-grey mech.

“ _Drift, sir_ ,” the newmech responded, looking up at Sigma.

“A fine designation. You get to be one of the first of our kind to go out and interact with species in the Galactic Alliance,” Sigma chuckled. “It’s a new thing, we want the universe to learn about us and accept us, so we decided to send a number of our newmechs and newfemmes out to become part of societies and so that we could learn about them as well.”

“It sounds rather interesting, I hope I get to see a nice place,” Drift said, signing the datapad that the Senator Prime handed to him. Then he was instructed to follow a yellow-and-black mech to a job recruitment facility.

“The planet we’re sending you to is called _‘Laira’_. It’s got a very honorable society. Their kind are about as tall as our average-sized mechs and femmes, with long ears and fur on their frames. They tend to dress in elaborate outfits and live in large estates,” the yellow-and-black mech said, smiling up at Drift. “The male who adopted you will be here tomorrow to take you to your new home. We’ve spoken with him, he runs a school out of his home on his estate—so, it seems rather appropriate that you could be adopted by a teacher, as it will be easier to learn about the new society you’re living in.”

Drift was nervous and excited about the next day. A large ship landed on the platform outside of Iacon and he was there with his case worker to greet his new, alien teacher. A tall being, clad primarily in multiple layers of robes………..you could barely notice he had brown fur, except for the very long ears that went down his back, since you couldn’t see much of the alien’s actual frame. The decorative ( ** _?_** ) fur that was on the top of his head had been wound and twisted up into a strange pattern that was something like a weaved tail ( ** _?_** ).

“Greetings, I am _Dev Jaiya Vale_ of Laira,” the male Lairan said, giving a bow from his shoulders.

“I’m _Drift_ , it’s nice to meet you,” the grey-and-white mech said, bowing from his shoulders.

There was a little bit of formality paperwork for Dev Jaiya Vale to fill out before he was able to take Drift aboard his ship and to head back to Laira. The ship he arrived on was a cruise liner from his homeworld of Laira. They were touring some Galactic Alliance worlds and stopped here at Dev Jaiya Vale’s request before they returned to Laira. The other Lairans were quite curious about the noble’s new adoption, but they all knew he picked up strays all the time—so it wasn’t surprising to anyone. 

For Drift, it was strange to be around a species that had very little of an EM field and clearly didn’t use it for anything at all. But he supposed he’d eventually get used to it. The one who adopted him seemed a very kind male of the species. He spoke with a kind lilt in his voice as he explained about his school—which actually sounded a lot more like _an orphanage_ than a school. But now knowing that the Lairan male adopted many, it made sense—probably calling it a school was for a specific reason rather than calling it an orphanage.

Over the next few months……. _and then years_ ……Drift had finally felt like he had a home at Dev Jaiya Vale’s school. He learned so much there—about honor and loyalty.

_And then learned how easy it was to lose all of that._

* * * * *

Dev Jaiya Vale had found a new stray to pick up. Though it had been almost one-hundred years since he’d been offworld to pick up a new adoption, he was very excited about a new child to raise. Drift insisted on going along—partly out of curiosity, but partly because he had a strange feeling **_something_** was going to happen and he wanted to be there to protect the Lairan. The noble was older now, though to the Lairan species they could live to be about three-hundred. This time, they were not taking a cruise ship, but a smaller vessel that had need to go around to a couple of Galactic Alliance worlds. At the end of the tour, Dev Jaiya Vale would be allowed to pick up his new adoption.

They really didn’t get all that far into the tour. When the worst part of the universe descended upon the ship—galactic pirates. They hadn’t expected a Cybertronian to be amongst the Lairans on the ship, but a high enough electric shock knocked even him unconscious. And even worse, after that—the pirates didn’t just loot the ship, but they sold all the Lairans and Drift on an auction block, on a black market world. _There was money to be made in slavery_ —just ask Cybertron, who **_actually_** sold off some of their newmechs and newfemmes to other worlds!

After all, that’s what the Export Edict was, at its very core. Yes, the primary wording was to promote trade of goods and services with members of the Galactic Alliance worlds. But there was money to be made by selling off the newmechs and newfemmes as well, plus it satisfied the paranoid public of overpopulation and job loss. The odd peace, but growing unease, continued to permeate the Golden Age—heading for a collision of epic proportions, eventually. But to all of those who no longer lived on Cybertron, whether on happy planets with good lives or those who entered sudden misfortune like Drift, their lives were not based on Cybertron or it’s stability or instability. Their lives were changed forever by the Export Edict.

Drift was separated from the Lairan who adopted him—Dev Jaiya Vale was probably dead wherever he went, or he would likely prefer death over what might be happening to him. And, Drift himself…….was in the last place any one of any species should be— _he was in a galactic circus_. And that was where he was for about fifty years before he found somewhere else, where he truly belonged.

_Fifty years of abuse, physical and verbal—forced to perform for hundreds of paying customers and never receiving anything worthwhile in return. Then Drift’s savior arrived….._

“ ** _Foolish organics!_** ” A powerful and deep voice thundered. “ ** _You got in the way of the Negare Strike Unit!_** ”

Chaos and fighting erupted.

_Slaughter_ , really.

“A Cybertronian?” A large, blue-and-grey mech, with some red and gold highlights on his armour murmured when he came to the cage that had Drift inside of it. “ _No brand_. Your designation, mech? Allegiance?” The mech demanded, light glinting on the beak-like visor that shielded his blazing red optics.

“ _Um. Drift. From Laira_ ,” the younger grey-and-white mech murmured. He rubbed his arms, embarrassed by his condition when looking at the gleaming Decepticon Unit Commander.

Deszaras tilted his head, puzzled. **_Laira?_** Wasn’t that an organic world with a rabbit-humanoid like species? And the designation of _Drift_ wasn’t familiar to him. Clearly he **_wasn’t_** an Autobot, the marks and scars on his frame and derma clearly showed signs of abuse—so, he’d been in this galactic freakshow for some time.

“How old are you, Drift?” Deszaras asked.

“ _Mmmm_. I was on Laira for one-hundred years. I’ve been here a couple decades. _Um_ …..fifty years, I think?” The grey-and-white mech murmured, softly, watching as Deszaras destroyed the cage around him.

“Nearly two centuries? Hmmm, so it would be shortly before the fall,” the commander murmured. “ _Ah_ , you must’ve been a newmech given away during the Export Edict—I’ve come across a few of you, but none in such squalor.”

“I was on Laira……….. _I was happy until_ ………..” Drift said, hurriedly, trying to defend the family he loved and missed.

“ _Hmmm_. Taken from the world you were sent to, then,” Deszaras responded, motioning for the mech to come out of the cage and to come with him. “Well, **_I will take you in_** —you will become a member of the Negare Strike Unit now! But we’ll definitely need to get your armour fixed and your derma repaired as best possible.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Drift whispered. He didn’t know what the Negare Strike Unit was, but this mech from Cybertron had saved him— _he owed this commander a great debt!_

Gently a hand rubbed his helm. 

“Don’t worry, _you’ll adjust_ —I can see a great talent within you, you’re a fighter and a survivor,” Deszaras said, fondly. “And the Negare Strike Unit cares for its own, you’ll have a new home with us.”

Drift didn’t know what Decepticons were until later and Deszaras’ unit was different than some of the other ones. The Negare Strike Unit were focused, they didn’t cause wanton destruction in the Galactic Alliance borders or the frontier like most of the Decepticons did. Deszaras was more about sowing _fear and terror_ than destruction—making sure everyone knew that the Decepticons were not to be messed with. He wasn’t quite sure what an Autobot really was, but the ones he saw were awfully preachy about “ _good_ ” and “ _right_ ”.

The _Thunder Arrow_ became his new home and the Negare Strike Unit became his new family. And he was given a more fitting Decepticon designation, as well as new armour and a full repair on his derma. His name was now “ _Deadlock_ ” and he was a complete weapons expert, as well as an incredible fighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get to finally go back to work next week. Huzzah! :D


	3. L'Cirque Magnifique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cerebros and his crew encounter a Galactic Circus with Cybertronians in it, while Ultra Magnus and Rodimus Prime try to delve into the Export Bill and it's ramifications.

_ Chapter Three: L’Cirque Magnifique _

Cerebros and Sonicbomber went aboard the orbital station and registered as guests for information and trade. Then they were wandering around, trying very hard to gather information. They both apprised the native population of L’grr—who were in some kind of hovering spheres filled with water if they didn’t have proper walking appendages (though some of the species did and only wore water filled helmets that were secured around their shoulders to grant water to the neck gills). And after that, it was easy to pick out who was “ _non-native_ ”, though not so easy to tell who might be with the travelling galactic circus that was there. In all, there were five other **_foreign_** ships docked at the orbital station—so, neither Autobot was very certain who belonged to what craft.

It had been determined to send Autobots from amongst the crew, because of the stigma the Decepticons may have out on the frontier. The Autobots may have a slight stigma as well, but likely not as negative in tone as the Decepticons most likely would. Not that Triggerhappy had minded, if there was a galactic circus there—he may have destroyed them all on sheer principle. He was better off getting some rest and pretending this part of the venture didn’t even exist, though Triggerhappy said he’d be quite willing to fight if it were necessary.

“I’m surprised we’re not seeing any of Starscream’s minions out here,” Sonicbomber murmured as Cerebros typed some things on a datapad at the trade station.

“We simply may not be noticing them. If Starscream has truly made alliances with non-Transformer species, some of these other aliens may be his agents,” Cerebros murmured in response. He carefully studied the trade charts, so that he could easily keep up on any sort of negotiations as their cover for being at the station.

Sonicbomber made a growling sound as he realized that might likely be true.

“May I help you gentlemen?” A deep voice in stunted galactic standard said from behind the two Autobots.

“Ah, yes— _please_ ,” Cerebros answered with a warm tone in his voice as he turned around to face the L’grrian.

It was one of the fish-humanoids in a sphere of water, so the voice echoed a little through the sphere’s speakers. This muscular, semi-humanoid-looking L’grrian had scars all along his torso, face and even his long fishtail.

“My crew and I have been looking for lost Cybertronians in this area of the unaligned territories,” the grey-and-black mech said, bobbing his head politely at the fish-man. “Our leader, Rodimus Prime, would like to bring our lost kin home. So, we are looking for information on if any of our kind have been seen in this system, however, we are also here to get some supplies as well.”

All of those statements were _absolutely true_ , so Cerebros had no need to say that they knew there were Cybertronians here on the orbital station. No sense in tipping his hand already—not if the L’grrians were in on the doings of the galactic circus docked at their orbital station.

“Let me get you my assistant—he’s familiar with your kind, as he should be,” the L’grrian male grunted, turning his sphere about and let out a weird and shrill whistling sound.

In a few moments a very tall Cybertronian approached and bobbed his shoulders submissively before the water-filled sphere with the male L’grrian in it. The tall Cybertronian had colors of dark blue and some aqua on his frame, with a few oddly pointy-bits.

“Master Quartz, what can I do for you?” The Cybertronian said, keeping his shoulders dipped and his head bowed—he clearly hadn’t noticed the other Cybertronians right in front of his “ _master_ ”.

This took Cerebros and Sonicbomber completely by surprise. They hadn’t gotten any readings of an actual Cybertronian here on the orbital station. But then—the Cybertronian may have been on the planet when they’d scanned the area. They’d noticed some sort of area that was clearly a teleporter of some sort going down to the surface—which made sense, as the L’grrians may not have wanted to spend all their lives on the orbital station.

“These gentlemen of your kind want to know some things—please provide them with any current information if we have it and make sure you get the proper payments this time,” the L’grrian, addressed as “ _Master Quartz_ ”, said firmly. “Riptide, you can make mistakes if you **_learn_** from them, but after all the millennia that you’ve been here, you _really_ should be better at all of this.”

“ _I know, I know_ …….. ** _I’m sorry, sir_**!” The humble, blue-colored Cybertronian said, hurriedly. His light-lavender-colored faceplate flushed a glowing light pink in embarrassment. “I’ll try really hard to get the business right today!”

“You’re a _good child_ , but honestly—you are better at landscaping than you are at business negotiating,” Quartz laughed softly, making a little gesture with his hand that was probably some sort of native sign of fondness. Then his sphere hovered off as he located other nearby customers to interact with.

“ _Good afternoon!_ I’m Riptide and I’ll be happy to help you conduct your business today!” The blue-colored Cybertronian said, grinning excitedly and dipping his shoulders at Cerebros and Sonicbomber. “ _Oh! You’re from Cybertron!_ I have not seen it since I came out of the forge! No wonder Master Quartz asked if I’d interact with you!”

“That’s right. My designation is Cerebros and this is my companion, Sonicbomber,” the black-and-grey mech chuckled warmly. This blue-colored mech may be some odd millions of years old, but he had a warmth and an innocence beyond his years. “Would you prefer us to speak in Cybertronian or to continue in galactic standard?” He asked, keeping warmth in the tone of his vocalizer.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember much Cybertronian, to be truthful—if we could continue in standard, that’d be great,” Riptide chuckled, more light glowing pink flushing his faceplate, beneath his yellow optic glass.

“How did you get all the way out to the frontier, Riptide?” Sonicbomber asked as the blue-colored mech walked them over to a trade terminal.

“ _Oh. **That**_ **.** I was one of the thousands adopted out with the Export Bill,” the mech explained. “L’grr is a _great planet_ and perfect for my alt mode—which is nautical.”

Cerebros filed that information away for later. He was vaguely aware of the Export Bill from the days of the old senate, but only as historical knowledge. The black-and-grey mech had no idea that Cybertronians were also exported out of Cybertron, along with goods.

“The planet’s got a great history. I was actually sent to the original homeworld of Harmony, which is part of the Galactic Alliance. But when the Harmonian ancestors of the L’grrians went exploring in space, I was taken along, too,” Riptide said, by way of light conversation. “They were pioneers and when they came out to the fringes, they found this planet—which was a lot like Harmony. So, they colonized it, but L’grr forged an independence pact with the homeworld and they’re a port out here on the fringes now. Not in the alliance, but pretty much an independent world which provides a safe haven to rest for anyone out here in the unaligned territories.”

“That is really amazing and impressive,” Sonicbomber chuckled softly. The black-and-white mech really liked this Riptide—he was a good guy, friendly and outgoing.

“ _I know, right?_ I **_really love_** these guys. I’m glad I got adopted out into their culture—they’re so amazing and so smart. I’m not really that smart, so I am always amazed at everything they create and stuff,” Riptide responded with a grin and then a little bit of shyness as he admitted he wasn’t very smart. “So, how are things on Cybertron? How’s the Golden Age progressing?” He asked, curiously.

“ _Um. **That**_ ,” Sonicbomber murmured, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

“Well, many things happened and there was a very long civil war,” Cerebros said, abbreviating the great war that consumed so much of their species and their culture for a very long time. “We’re only now soothing old issues and rebuilding the damage.”

“ _Awww, man_ …….yeah, I can see how that might’ve happened. I mean, before I left, things were a bit uneasy. The Export Bill was supposed to help ease some of the public’s discomfort,” Riptide sighed softly. “ _Oh_ , I should get to work—instead of standing here chatting. _Let’s see_ ………” the blue-colored mech trailed off, looking at a datapad and rubbing the back of his neck as he read the checklist for negotiating. “ _Information_. Depending on what I can provide and all, it will be one-thousand GC for each bit of information I can provide. Trade—depending on what you need to trade for, that can vary in prices.”

“What kind of information can we ask for? Local……..regional? System-wide inquiries?” Cerebros asked, tilting his head at the taller mech.

“We are about freedom of information for minimal pricing, but sometimes privacy concerns may come into it. I’ll let you know before I charge you, whether I can answer your questions or not,” Riptide answered, still looking at his checklist on his datapad and mouthing words on it as he ran down the checklist.

“We saw there was a galactic circus vessel docked here,” Sonicbomber said, folding his arms across his chest as he looked around and not at Riptide directly—trying not to distract the mech from concentrating on his work. “I’ve never seen one, so I was curious to see if we could learn about worlds they’ve visited. They see a lot more places than we do, since Transformers aren’t generally welcome everywhere in the universe in the current era. They might have answers we need or may have seen others of our kind somewhere in the universe. Can we speak with any of the representatives of that vessel and ask if they’ve seen anything that might help us?”

“ _Mmmm_. That one I’m not sure about, just a minute—let me go ask if I can answer that or not,” the blue-colored mech sighed, turning about and running over to Master Quartz to ask about their question.

“That was a lot more subtle than I expected from you,” Cerebros chuckled, looking over at his Autobot companion.

“He’s a bit innocent, so I don’t think he knows why we’re exactly asking,” Sonicbomber responded, shrugging lightly. “If he were a bit more up on current events and stuff, he might be suspicious of why we’d want to talk to members of a galactic freakshow.”

* * * * *

Rodimus Prime returned to Cybertron with intention to have Ultra Magnus help him go through as old of the documents of Cybertron that they could find. He left before Galvatron had come back to Chaar and left a message for his sparkmate that he needed to go back to Cybertron and do some research. Galvatron should understand, this was their lives now—in far orbit of one another, only to come explosively close at times.

“Why don’t we ask Optimus?” The flame-colored mech said, placing his servos on his hips and looked at the walls of the damaged old Central Library of Iacon. “Maybe Alpha Trion kept some stuff—that oldmech was supposedly very secretive. If Optimus knows where his mentor might have stored some stuff, maybe we can find a big cache of old documents?”

“It is a certainty we will not find anything here,” the old Autobot soldier sighed, looking around the ruins. “What is it you want to find in the old archives of the Senate anyways?”

“A list of names. Of the ones adopted out in the Export Edict,” Rodimus grumbled, folding his arms across his chest and a ripple of unhappiness went through his field. “Dammit, Magnus—Cybertron sent out newmechs to other worlds as part of this stupid export bill.”

“Ah. I think I very vaguely remember this. Crystal City was far enough away from Iacon that we weren’t as defined by the Senate politics as Iacon and it’s closest cities were,” Ultra Magnus replied, placing a servo to his hip and rubbing a temple with his free servo. “But I thought it was export for goods and services……….they exported Cybertronians?” He asked, looking over at his leader and lover.

“Yeah. Deadlock told me—he was one of the newmechs exported out of Cybertron,” the flame-colored mech sighed softly.

“Hmmm,” the old soldier murmured, quietly. “Rodimus. I know the idea of that bothers you, but try to understand the state of Cybertron back during the Golden Age. This planet was at the apex of its culture and society. When you get into a state like this, the public becomes complacent and stubborn about its personal needs and wants—the government caters to the public’s whims and their politics and policies are based around this.”

“Yeah, I get it, _but it’s so dumb_!” Rodimus Prime groaned softly, facepalming himself.

“Yes, it does get to be rather frustrating,” the old Autobot soldier chuckled softly, walking over and patting the flame-colored mech on the back. “Come on. You’ve been up too long—you need to get some recharge. Let’s go back to Iacon and let me make sure you get to berth properly.”

“Not going to share it with me?” Rodimus chuckled, bumping his hip against Magnus’ side, fondly.

“I have a few things to get done, but if you get some proper recharge—come find me early in the morning. I’ll indulge a little romp with you,” Ultra Magnus responded, hugging his younger lover’s shoulders warmly.

“Have it your way,” the flame-colored mech laughed.

They clasped servos and walked back to the central offices and hab blocks together.

“ _Eeeeee! Carrrrriiiii!!!_ ” A familiar voice squealed as Stormbreaker leaped into Rodimus’ arms just as he reached them out to catch her. “Sire called—he said _‘okay’_!”

Galvatron probably didn’t use that exact wording. He might’ve said that he understood and he would wait until their next visit. Rodimus Prime chuckled and rubbed nasal ridges with his youngest offspring.

“How would you like to read your carrier a bedtime story?” Ultra Magnus asked, reaching over to rub the young femme’s helm, fondly.

“ _Oooooh, yes I do!_ ” Stormbreaker said, her small field flaring up with excitement.

“It’s all up to you, make sure your carrier goes takes recharge tonight,” Magnus chuckled, smiling at her. “I will see you in the morning, Rodimus,” he added, smiling at the flame-colored mech. Then he watched the two of them walk to the hab block where their quarters were, before turning towards his own office.

Once Ultra Magnus sat down at his desk, he sent a message requesting to speak to Optimus Prime—as soon as he could make himself available. It didn’t take very long before the former Autobot Leader was able to get back to him.

**[Is there a problem on Cybertron, Magnus?]** The noble Autobot asked.

“Only Rodimus trying to over-stress himself, as usual,” Ultra Magnus sighed. “We were wondering if you knew anything about your mentor, Alpha Trion, possibly having a stash of historical records hidden somewhere.”

**[That is certainly the most interesting question I’ve been asked today,]** Optimus Prime chuckled. **[Given Rodimus’ sudden curiosity about history, I shouldn’t be as surprised at that question. Is there something specific you’re looking for?]**

“Near the end of the Golden Age, before Megatron was created—the old senate passed a slew of bills. One was called the Export Bill and it was basically part of a trade pact with the old Galactic Alliance,” the old Autobot soldier began. Magnus leaned forwards and rested his folded servos on the desk before him.

**[I vaguely remember that. On the docks, we talked a lot about that—as we wondered whether it would give us more work to do once trade with the universe had started up,]** Optimus said, rubbing the lower ridge of his facial shield thoughtfully.

“Apparently they _‘adopted’_ out Cybertronians under this bill as well,” Magnus said, very seriously.

The look on Optimus Prime’s faceplate—despite the facial shield covering his mouth—was _definitely_ one of surprise.

“A lot of us who were alive during those times, we were a lot more innocent back then,” the red-blue-white old soldier responded. “We knew of things, but never of the details—you’d probably have had to be in the _Senate’s Paladin Guard_ to fully understand them. I think the public was just generally aware that overpopulation was being dealt with—and since they never saw overcrowding or job loss, they never thought much of it.”

**[That sounds about the right of things. Well, Alpha Trion had a lot of little……..hideouts…….throughout Cybertron. I can give you a list of the cities that I knew about, but I’m sure I was never made aware of all of them,]** the former Autobot Leader responded, thoughtfully. **[No matter how close we had become, he still hid a lot from me, as well. I was a wartime leader, so I had no need to know about history and such.]**

“No one ever counted on someone like Hot Rod ever coming about,” Magnus chuckled, fondly. “ ** _I_** certainly had not—he’s made our lives all a whole lot more interesting and richer.”

**[Indeed. I will mail you the list sometime later, after I sit and think about it,]** Optimus Prime added.

Then the two of them ended communication and not even five seconds later, Ultra Magnus got a call from Chaar.

**[ _Maaaaaggggnuuuusss!!!_ ]** Galvatron growled, sharply. **[ _I cannot get ahold of my Prime—what have you done with him?!_ ]** The powerful Decepticon Leader snapped on the viewing screen, his faceplate way too close to the camera optic.

“I made Stormbreaker ensure her carrier went to berth at a proper time. You know how he is—too much energy and interest in things that he won’t make himself sleep and then he stresses,” Ultra Magnus answered, keeping his voice nice and even. But he found it warmly amusing at Galvatron’s concern for Rodimus Prime.

**[ _Frag him until he offlines, that is what I always do!_ ]** The purple-and-grey mech snapped. **[Why did he simply up and leave? I told him I would be back in two days!]** He growled, stepping back from the camera optic and folded his arms across his chest.

“He had something he wanted to look into, back here on Cybertron. I’m sure he’ll make time for you again, soon,” Magnus answered.

**[He was supposed to be here for two weeks, he was barely here for one. Does he not understand the purpose of a _‘vacation’_?!]** Galvatron snapped, still very much annoyed at things.

“What can I say, he has come to enjoy researching history—and once something catches his interest, he’ll chase it down until he’s satisfied,” the old Autobot soldier chuckled.

**[ _Nnnngh_. It is true. Well, then—make sure he does not stress. I suppose I will see him again another time,]** the Decepticon Leader grunted softly. Then he broke the connection, clearly done with the conversation.

By the time Ultra Magnus had settled back to look at a few reports before he would head off for recharge, he received an i-mail from Optimus Prime with a list of Cybertronian cities and locations where he knew that Alpha Trion had a hideaway. He looked at the list and made sure to keep it in his inbox to show Rodimus sometime tomorrow. Even if that wasn’t all of Alpha Trion’s little hideouts—there were _a lot_ of places listed there.

The Autobots’ Second-in-Command went off to his own quarters and went into recharge. When he woke up in the morning, he found a familiar frame laying right on top of him.

“’Morning, Magnus,” Rodimus chuckled, fondly, kicking his legs a little bit and they bounced lightly on top of Ultra Magnus’ own blanket-covered legs.

“First of all—please call or glyph Galvatron sometime today. Even though I assured him you were fine and just absorbed in research—he still wants to know why you left Chaar in the middle of your vacation,” Ultra Magnus said, sighing softly and pulling an arm out from underneath the blanket to wrap it around Rodimus’ waist and rest the servo on his aft.

“ _Ooops_. Got a little excited,” the flame-colored mech giggled.

“Secondly, I spoke with Optimus last night and he gave me a list of cities and areas he recalls Alpha Trion having base points. He doesn’t know them all, though—so, there’s no guarantee we’ll find what you’re looking for in any of them,” the older mech continued, very seriously.

“ _A list_. Of the mechs and femmes adopted out as a result of the Export Edict,” Rodimus Prime answered, stopping the playful kicking of his legs and relaxing on top of his Second-in-Command.

“ _I see_ ,” Magnus answered. “Lastly, _good morning_ —and you seem to be as energetic as usual. And, _yes_ , I got semi-lectured by Galvatron for not fragging you into offlining.”

Rodimus laughed and rolled off of Magnus. “Well, it **_is_** what he does to make me go into recharge,” the flame-colored mech chuckled, grabbing the blankets and rolling over to the other end of the berth, leaving Ultra Magnus uncovered suddenly, even as he was wrapped in a blanket cocoon now.

Magnus turned to his side and propped himself up on an elbow-joint. Rodimus was always very playful with him. The old soldier suspected that the flame-colored mech did so to try and make him feel at ease in this relationship—that it was not heavy or so-very-serious, _that it would break the universe_ if they screwed up. Ultra Magnus knew that this relationship was meant to be **_relaxed_** for the both of them—that they were both supposed to be comfortable and comforted by one another.

The _so-very-serious_ relationship was the one Rodimus Prime had with Galvatron. It was best left like that. And Ultra Magnus found he enjoyed this much more relaxed relationship—which was built on friendship and respect more than it was on interfacing and the future. He knew that if the future made them break off this relationship one day, they would still always be friends and have the greatest of respect for one another. That was the most important part of their relationship.

“Hey, Magnus………. _thanks for being a part of my life_. You are so wonderful and so normal and I love you, too,” the flame-colored mech said, quietly, tucking the blanket edge up over the lower half of his faceplate as it flushed a light pink.

**_That_** was also really sweet, too. How Rodimus always thanked him for being there—for interfacing and kissing and cuddling, as well as for listening to the younger mech and following along in his sometimes rather tumultuous wake. It didn’t matter that Ultra Magnus could always feel it in the flame-colored mech’s field, hearing the words spoken gave the feelings an even deeper meaning to the old soldier.

“I love you, Hot Rod,” the red-white-blue mech said, very fondly, leaning over Rodimus Prime and leaning down to kiss him, as the mech lowered the edge of the blanket so he could do so. “But, right now, you have far too many layers of blanket wrapped around your frame. How am I supposed to interface with you if you’re all wrapped in blankets?” He chuckled, kissing the mech’s forehead and letting his field ripple with love and warmth all around the flame-colored mech’s frame.

Rodimus Prime shuttered his optics and reveled in the warmth of Ultra Magnus’ frame and field above him. He cherished the kisses and relaxed as deft servos began to unwind him from the blanket, until he was rolled into the center of the berth and a wet glossa stroked up his neck cabling. The way Ultra Magnus interfaced with him was so different than the way Galvatron took him— _it was precious and treasured_. He totally loved Galvatron’s wildness and rough ‘facing, but he also loved the way that Magnus took his time and pleased his frame before overloads came for either of them. Both of Rodimus Prime’s lovers were important to him, deep inside and treasured within his Spark for all eternity.

The flame-colored mech surrendered to Ultra Magnus’ glossa and servos—and eventually, his spike—clutching at the bulkier frame and purring happily as he overloaded a few times.

* * * * *

Cerebros had sent Sonicbomber back to the shuttlecraft, while he met with the captain of the galactic circus vessel. There was a special lobby area in the orbital station, where people to met to negotiate and trade. Numerous L’Grrians were there—either doing trading or overseeing some trades. The Autobot stood at a very tall table as an organic finally sat in a chair and raised it so they were practically eyes-to-optics with one another across the table.

“So, Cerebros of Cybertron—what is it that I may assist you with?” The alien said, bobbing its head, politely.

Cerebros couldn’t quite make out a gender on this particular species and he was completely unfamiliar with them. This alien was organic and maybe about as tall as the human species from Earth, but that was all they had in common with Earth organics. This being had a short fuzz of fur on its body, with long spines protruding from it’s back (from neck to waist)—this meant the clothing it wore was loose and open along the back from the neck to where the whip-like tail emerged from the end of its spinal backbone. It also wore a cloth, wound up in a strange shape or pattern, around the top of its head, so he could barely see the long ears beneath it.

“Well, the Autobot Leader— _Rodimus Prime_ —has been looking for our kin lost in the universe. As you may know, some of our species went out into the frontier and fought for a very long time,” the black-and-grey mech began, being very careful to keep his voice even and neutral. “My companion, Sonicbomber, thought that as a galactic circus travels far and wide within the galactic systems—you may have had some sightings of other Cybertronians somewhere. We would gladly pay for legitimate information you have on any of our kin—especially if you’ve seen them in this local system.”

The alien raised a hand—more like a clawed paw, really—to its face and rubbed it lightly in thought. “How much would you pay for information—and how much would you pay if we could provide you with a Cybertronian?” It asked, looking directly at Cerebros and not even showing fear or flinching at a being several times its own size.

“I sincerely don’t want you to go out of your way to _provide one_ —I think you’ll find we’ll pay well enough for the information,” Cerebros said, carefully, trying not to let on that he knew the circus had several Cybertronians.

“It’s no bother,” the alien responded with something akin to a laugh. “He’s been a bit of a pain in recent years.”

_He?_ So, this was one of the Cybetronians with the actual circus vessel itself. However, this alien was only specifying one Cybertronian and Fortress Maximus’ scanners had picked up signs of at least three Sparks on the vessel. So, the alien was going to _play games_ —he was going to deflect any other probing by providing at least one Cybertronian to them, so that they would be left alone.

“I can provide you with fifty-thousand GC for the safe release of our kin, then,” Cerebros said. It was a higher amount in shanix, but he knew he could provide it. Because then they were going to do something amazingly dramatic to make up for the fact that they paid an outrageous amount for an “ _exchange of a hostage_ ”, basically.

“Done,” the alien responded, lifting a communications device. The alien said something into it in another language—possibly its own native language. Then another alien, likely from the circus vessel, approached with a small Cybertronian with him. The Cybertronian was definitely of Mini-Con size, so was likely a Battle Master, and he was blue and pale-grey in colors. There was an odd box-backpack on the Cybertronian’s back—which likely contained what specialized items that made it a Battle Master, as opposed to a Mini-Con.

“Very well,” Cerebros responded. He took out a blank bank card and inserted it into the slot of his datapad. Then he logged into his galactic bank account and transferred 50,000 galactic credits onto the card. “The funds will take one hour to appear digitally on the card. Included on the card is a digital receipt and instructions for contact, if there are problems in accessing the funds.”

“A pleasure doing business with you,” the alien responded, hopping off its chair as soon as it took the bank card. Then it walked away with its cohort, leaving the small Cybertronian with Cerebros.

Cerebros knelt down to look at the exhausted little mech. “Hello, little one. My designation is Cerebros,” he introduced as the mech looked up at him with dusty-yellow, glass-covered, old-looking optics.

The small mech raised his servos and began to gesture, being certain to point to his neck-cabling first before making a series of signs. _The mech could not speak!_ However, old Cybertronian signing was not an unfamiliar language to Cerebros—who spoke more languages than almost any Cybertronian currently alive did. After watching the long series of signs, Cerebros gave a light chuckle and raised a digit before his facial shield in the universal gesture of “ _hush_ ”.

“Do not worry, little one—we’re somewhat aware of the situation and we intend to retrieve your companions, as well,” he answered. Then he asked the Battle Master to follow him back towards where the shuttle he and Sonicbomber had taken to come to the orbital station was parked. “Sonicbomber, meet Soundbarrier—he can’t speak, but he knows old sign language. He’s confirmed there are two other Battle Masters with the circus—Lionizer and Turbo Board, both have beast forms as their primary modes.”

“That explains why the circus is trying to keep them—they’re robot animals and probably a draw for crowds,” the black-and-white mech sighed, settling down at the piloting station. “It’s nice to meet you, Soundbarrier,” he added with a polite dip of his head to the Battle Master before focusing on piloting them back to Fortress Maximus.

“Electro,” Cerebros said to the bridge officer, back on Fortress Maximus, as he opened up a communications line. “Keep a lock on that ship—we’re going to see where it goes from here and clip them off where we might have more room to fight and less collateral damage.”

**[Should I ask Triggerhappy and Slugslinger to get ready for a fight, because they really want one…..?]** Electro chuckled on the mainscreen.

“Yes. And ask Rawjaw if he’d like to cause a little chaos as well,” the grey-and-black mech responded with a soft laugh.

They returned to Fortress Maximus in short order and Electro kept tabs on when the circus ship took off. Cerebros, Sonicbomber and Soundbarrier all went up to the bridge area of the titan mech—and got the situation rundown from Electro quickly.

“Rawjaw. Soundbarrier says the two other Battle Masters are beast-form mechs, they don’t speak regular Cybertronian, but a more animalistic sound. I know you talked primitive language to the Sharkticons, do you think you can speak to these Battle Masters?” Cerebros asked of the Alpha Predator Sharkticon, as he stood silently with his staff, on the bridge, away from the piloting stations and such.

“ _Nnngh_. Perhaps,” the Sharkticon responded with his very stunted modern Cybertronian, that he’d only begun to try and learn how to speak since he arrived on Chaar. Over the years, he had come to fit in well with the Decepticons and enjoyed his new life of freedom—and, most especially, all the daily fueling. “What now?” He asked, looking up at Cerebros and tapping the butt of his staff lightly at the floor by his pedes.

“There’s an empty cluster of asteroids nearby, we’re going to force them down onto the asteroids,” the black-and-grey mech responded. “ _Then_ we take the offensive.”

“ _All out?_ ” Triggerhappy asked, from where he was standing with Slugslinger, as they checked their weapons.

“ _Damage_ , but don’t kill unless it’s necessary,” Cerebros said, firmly.

“ ** _Damn_** ,” Slugslinger sighed.

“Leaving them stranded for a time may teach them to not piss off Cybertronians,” Electro chuckled, walking past the two Decepticons. “And some of them might starve _. Eh_.”

“ _Scare them_ ,” Rawjaw grunted, gazing at the group and nodding his head. “This Rawjaw can do.” The Alpha Predator Sharkticon grinned and snapped his jaws as he might in his alt mode—both dark amusement and threat in the gesture.

Given that Rawjaw’s alt mode was a whole lot bigger than his primary mode—about as large as a gestalt—he would definitely be able to scare the hell out of almost any organic in the universe!

As soon as they had tracked the circus vessel close to the asteroid field that they intended to down the vessel at—Cerebros gave the order to attack it. Triggerhappy and Slugslinger transformed into their alt modes and went out in pursuit of the vessel and harried it in the direction of the asteroids. Fortress Maximus sent out the shot that disabled their engines and then the galactic circus vessel—a massive thing, twice the size of Fortress Maximus’ vessel-mode—crashed onto one of the largest asteroids in the field.

After the crash, Rawjaw leaped out of Fortress Maximus’ docking area and landed on the asteroid surface with his staff ready to fight with. The Alpha Predator Sharkticon was not going to reveal his alt mode just quite yet. Cerebros had given him the information where the beasts were likely kept on the vessel, so it was his job to open up that area. 

The titan mech had landed and placed an atmospheric bubble around the area of the ship, so that the organic creatures would not die as soon as Rawjaw opened a hole in the vessel. Just as the grey-and-black Autobot had predicted, Rawjaw could see fissure lines in the vessel’s area—meaning there were openable hatches to the outside from it. Cerebros had postulated that it might be so, to be easier to load or evacuate the animals for performances.

“Too easy,” the Alpha Predator Sharkticon grumbled, twirling his staff and charging its lightning energy to full. Then he sent it into one of the closest fissures and lightning filled every gap of the hidden door frames, popping them all open instantly.

Some of the animals stumbled out, puzzled, while some hid in the corners of their cell-cages on the ship (afraid of what had been happening around them). Rawjaw began snarling and hissing and growling in a more primitive language that most beasts could probably understand. That was when others began slowly venturing out from the cell-cages.

That was also when some of the circus employees began shouting and ordering the animals back into their cages, brandishing whips and other methods of making animals submit. Rawjaw gave a hissing little laugh and then transformed into his alt mode, bending his shoulders down to roar directly into the interior of the ship, at the circus employees.

The animals all recognized an Alpha Predator right away and began gathering in crowds behind Rawjaw’s massive daikaijuu-like frame. A few of the larger, clearly more soldier-like aliens, all aimed massive cannons at Rawjaw. The Alpha Predator Sharkticon roared in their faces again and they backed away, shooting futilely at Rawjaw, nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Triggerhappy and Slugslinger went in through another entrance of the ship to see if they could evacuate the others who were not animals, but were still being used and abused by the circus, otherwise.

“ _Eh_ , it’s not so bad being the heroic ones for a change,” Triggerhappy chuckled as a couple of very fuzzy aliens hugged his boots happily at being freed of their enduring servitude. “Just think of it—one day, we’ll probably be _more famous_ than the Autobots, ‘cause of our adaptability on war and peace.”

“I think that’s what Rodimus Prime is hoping for—turning around the very bleak view the universe has of the Decepticons. And really, as long as we get to fight sometimes, I’m all for the peace thing,” Slugslinger responded with a grin.

The two Decepticons worked their way through the ship, being very careful to protect the freed circus slaves and made sure to escort them out of the downed ship. They took the crowd over to where Rawjaw was standing with his own little “ _zoo_ ” of so many alien animals. They seemed to all look to him as their brand-new protector and he’d occasionally roar back towards the opened doors of the cell-cages of the vessel, if he saw the circus staff trying to get in potshots at him or the animals he was taking care of.

“You did way better than us, big guy,” Slugslinger laughed as he noted how a good number of the animals were curled up against the Alpha Predator Sharkticon’s legs.

“ _I am the best_ ,” the Alpha Predator Sharkticon chuckled, with a deep hissing sound through his beast-mode’s vocalizer.

“No argument there,” Triggerhappy added with a grin.

* * * * *

**[We’re going to see most of these species to their homeworlds or get them to a Galactic Alliance outpost where they can be cared for,]** Cerebros said to Rodimus Prime over the communications link with Cybertron.

“Thanks, Cerebros. I suppose those fifty-thousand credits will allow the circus vessel to call for help off the asteroid, at any rate,” the flame-colored mech responded. “ _So_ , that Riptide guy was really happy with where he’d been sent to?”

**[Yes. The L’grrians seemed to be very fond of him, too,]** the grey-and-black mech chuckled. **[I suppose, despite however distasteful the idea of exporting Cybertronians is—there are some of our kind who were loved and taken care of out there. So, for every Drift that bad things happened to—there’s a Riptide who is loved very much by the people he was sent to live with.]**

Rodimus made a soft, thoughtful, humming sound. It had to be true, though—not every Cybertronian farmed out to other worlds suffered, probably. And given a Cybertronian’s long lifetime, they may well have even left their adopted world once the people who claimed them were gone. That might explain some of the bounty hunters out there who were of Cybertronian frame and program, but never had a brand. Deadlock said he had been happy on Laira, it was unfortunate circumstance that placed him into misery. Cerebros said that this Riptide loved the L’grrians— _and they loved him_.

The young Autobot Leader thanked Cerebros for everything and then turned back to his desk’s piles of work. The information—not just of another Cybertronian adoptee—was interesting. This planet of L’grr was an independent colony from a world in the Galactic Alliance. They were a safe haven out on the frontier—and relied on trades, using their orbital station, to keep up with things in the universe. He would have to make note of this planet, because they could be a useful hub for getting information out on the frontier.

He would just have to make sure there were plenty of credits available for negotiating for information!

Rodimus and Magnus had managed to look into two of the listed safe places of Alpha Trion’s and brought back several piles of datapads. They divvied them up and set out to see what was on them. Right now, Rodimus was looking at a few files on the datapads and then placing them into organized piles. Heck, just what they found already would allow them to start up a new Central Library! Some of the datapads had already came from the older version of the Central Library, so did Alpha Trion steal them?

Just as he was concentrating really hard on the datapads before him—he felt two, very familiar, EM fields. Neither of which were usually in one spot at the same time, both heading in his direction.

“ _Galvatron!_ ” Rodimus Prime gasped as his office door whipped open.

“ _Prrrrriiiiimmmmeeee!!!_ ” Galvatron growled at the very same time.

“He insisted, Rodimus,” Ultra Magnus added, quickly.

“ _Uh. Um_. Galvatron……….is something wrong?” The flame-colored mech asked, rising from his seat just as Galvatron plunked a datapad directly in front of him.

“Cyclonus said to give this to you, _right now_ ,” the powerful Decepticon Leader grunted.

Cyclonus? Information? **_NOW!?_**

Galvatron stood there, with his EM field rippling a tiny bit with frustration, and then folded his arms across his chest. Ultra Magnus stood there a little bit awkwardly.

**|Should I go ahead and go? You’ll be okay?|**

**|Yeah, I’ll be fine, Magnus. Galvatron probably expects a reward as well—so, please warn people away from my office for the time being.|**

**|Of course.|**

Emotions didn’t really show in glyph-messaging. If someone wanted to convey a message with particular emotions, they would attach a glyph representing that emotion. Ultra Magnus didn’t attach _any_ emotion glyphs, but Rodimus was fairly certain that the Autobots’ Second-in-Command was really rather annoyed. So, in a moment the red-white-blue mech turned and walked out of the room. Rodimus made sure to lock the door as he took the datapad and walked over to the couch.

Then he looked up at Galvatron, grinned, and patted the place next to him on the couch.

Galvatron grunted, made a side trip over to the mini-Energon storage unit in the corner, grabbed a can and then sat down next to his younger lover.

“Cyclonus had built a network to gather information for us. He has more skill than I do at these sorts of things,” the grey-and-purple mech grunted and took a couple swallows of Energon from the can. “While we do not know exactly where Starscream is, his forces have been out harassing other species. Cyclonus has compiled a list of Cybertronians that are now confirmed in the Destron army.”

“Please tell Cyclonus that I appreciate his sharing the information with me, I’ll pass this on to Optimus Prime,” Rodimus said, apprising the list and snuggling up to Galvatron’s side. “I’m pretty young and don’t know a lot of these names. But Optimus has been around longer, so has Magnus—they can fill me in on who these people are.”

“ _I could care less who they are. **I will slay them all for aligning with that traitor**_ ,” Galvatron growled, fiercely.

The plasma pools of Thrull had probably deleted a lot of Megatron’s old memories of all his units and soldiers. Galvatron remembered very little of Megatron’s world. While the information would have been really helpful to have now, Rodimus Prime was a lot happier that there was nothing left of Megatron in the mech he had come to love with all his Spark and program.

They wouldn’t be here, today.

They wouldn’t have a relationship.

They wouldn’t have the ceasefire accords.

And they wouldn’t have their precious sparklings.

None of that would have existed if Galvatron was still even a small part “ _Megatron_ ” in his deeds, thoughts or personality. Galvatron wanted conquest, like Megatron……….but he viewed it in such a different way, that Rodimus Prime had been able to steer him onto a better path for that conquest. Galvatron was a much better mech for following this path—the Decepticons would eventually be an amazing addition to the Galactic Alliance. They could grant incredible strength to the Galactic Alliance military—enough to strengthen any physical force that might be needed against the Galactic Alliance’s enemies.

But that was still a long way off, yet. The Decepticons weren’t that close to being able to be sponsored into the Galactic Alliance at anytime in this decade and likely the next. If anything, though, Cybertronians had time on their sides. _Lots of time_.

“When will we have a war council about this?” Galvatron asked, sliding the nearest arm around Rodimus’ waist.

“Optimus and Magnus will look over the information with anyone else we might need to talk about it with,” the flame-colored mech said, laying his head lightly against the powerful mech’s shoulder pillar. “I’ll make sure we call you and let you know.”

“Very well. Perhaps now we can relax and enjoy ourselves a little,” the Decepticon Leader chuckled, letting a little bit of his desire slip into the strong waves of his EM field.

“I am all up for having a little bit of fun, hence why the door is locked,” the Autobot Leader responded with a grin.

As Galvatron leaned back into the couch, opening his spike plating, Rodimus got up and tapped the window behind the couch’s shutter panel. Then he opened his array paneling and knelt over his lover’s lap, slowly lowering himself onto Galvatron’s thick, black spike.

“ _Mmmmmm_ ……….” the young Prime purred. He shuttered his optics and braced his servos against the powerful warmech’s shoulder pillars. Then he began to ride his lover and they both climbed to the plateau of pleasure that they wanted to reach right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of my doctor's appointments are done, information has been gathered and hopefully things can be fixed soon. I do have new medications (yay). But I hope this lets me get back to normal with writing and all soon, too. :)
> 
> Work, though, that still is pretty weird and wonky with the world's current situation. @_@

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I said I'd do this version universe's history of Deadlock soon and it ties in to history that Rodimus Prime needs to know.


End file.
